"A SICK CAPTAIN!"
"YES, Mrs. Creak, 'tis me right enough! And how do you be? Ain't you
astonished to see me? And ain't I growed? Does I look nice? I hopes as
how I does, for I've put on my Sunday best to come and see you."
It was Peggy who spoke. She stood in the little sweet-shop, and it
seemed to her as she saw Mrs. Creak, with her mending basket behind the
counter, as if it were only yesterday she had been there.
Mrs. Creak put down her spectacles, and came out of her corner to
gather her into her arms and kiss her.
"Dearie me! Who'd have thought it? I always felt you'd do well, Peggy.
You were so set on service. You look quite fat and rosy. Let me have a
good sight of you!"
Peggy could bear inspection. She was in a neat black coat and gown, a
white tie round her throat, and a white straw hat with black ribbon on
her head.
Not pretty. Our Peggy would never be that, but fresh and bright and
happy, and Mrs. Creak nodded with smiling content at her.
"Now tell me how you be back in London? You must come into my back
parlour, and we'll have a cup o' tea together. Mine be just ready."
She led the way into a shining little parlour, with a bright fire in
the grate, and a tabby cat in full possession of the small gay-coloured
hearthrug.
Peggy proceeded to give an account of herself.
"And I've been in London a week 'm," she concluded with. "And I've
never seen such a 'andsome house as my missus has. I never thought I
would have come to it! 'Tis full of picturs, and curtings, and chiny,
and has three stairs all carpeted, and there is Lucy, the cook, and
Nesbitt, the 'ousemaid, and me to help Nesbitt. She's a bit grave 'm,
and don't like me talkin', and she be that partic'lar I has a hard job
to please her, but Lucy be awful good-natured, and my missus is very
kind. And this be my afternoon out 'm, and my missus have give me two
new print gowns. She said she liked me to look nice, and Lucy's niece
is a-makin of them."
"Why, you're gettin' on splendid," said cheery Mrs. Creak, when Peggy's
breath gave way. "I always says that some girls go up, and some goes
down, and 'tis their own doin', as a rule, which way 'tis. And how be
you managin' your money, dearie?"
"Oh," said Peggy, with a wise shake of her head, "I never spends no
more than I can help. I'm a-savin' of it slow and sure."
"A very good thing, Peggy; for the time will come when you may need it;
sickness or old age—"
"Oh, please 'm, I shouldn't think of savin' it for myself." Peggy
looked quite shocked. "Why, I never would be so greedy like. 'Tis for
other—Well, there 'm, I can't tell you, but I be savin' it sure enough,
and I means to. I have set my mind to it."
"And are you glad to get back to London, Peggy?"
"I is and I isn't 'm. 'Tis nice feelin' you're somebody in the country.
Why, Mrs. Creak, there isn't a man or woman in our village that don't
know me, and says 'Good evening' or 'Good mornin'' to me. You see we be
like one big family in the country; there be so few on us to know that
folks know everybody; and now in London, I be just like a fly. There be
too many like me to notice one in partic'lar.
"Oh, I likes the country 'm, I does indeed, but it ain't so clean as
it ought to be, and there be no water-carts nor mud-carts nor any
road-scrapers along the roads, so 'tis terrible for yer boots. But when
I come back to London and see'd the shops and people and hosses and
carriages, I could have hugged 'em in my arms 'm, I was that pleased to
see 'em agen. And how be Mrs. Jones and h'Arthur 'm? Do you see 'em?"
"Yes, I does on occasions, Peggy. You must just run in and see 'em for
a minute, if you've time."
"That I will. But oh my, Mrs. Creak! Ain't I glad I went to proper
service! Why, do you know, Nesbitt is gain' to learn me wait at table?
I'm a-tremblin' with the thought o' it, but I means to try my very
best. And if I can ketch hold of the dishes and hand them proper
without breakin', shan't I be just proud of myself!"
It was a happy little visit. Peggy ran over to Mrs. Jones, and was
embraced most warmly by mother and son.
When she returned to Mrs. Dale's house, she assured Nesbitt "that
visitin' old friends and places were most excitin' and agreeable."
"For, Nesbitt, I looks at myself as I were a year ago, and then at
myself now, and I says to myself, 'Why, Peggy, you was a dreadful
common girl when you first took a place, you didn't know nothin', and
you hadn't seen nothin', and now you feels as if you were full up with
h'information about house cookin' and housework.' And Nesbitt, I'm
awful glad I don't live in Bone Alley now!"
Peggy did not see much of her mistress. Mrs. Dale was out a good deal,
and she received a great many visitors, but one day she sent for her.
She was suffering from one of her headaches and lay in a darkened room.
"Peggy, I remember you telling me of hot water fomentations. I wonder
if you could bring me some hot water and try it. As Nesbitt is out this
afternoon, I must rely on you."
Peggy was delighted at the honour conferred upon her. She was away and
back again in a very few minutes, and as she bathed her mistress's
forehead, she said softly—
"I does wish I knew a certain cure for the headache. You has had yer
heart cured, but the head is the trouble."
"I don't think I have had my heart cured," said Mrs. Dale, half-smiling.
Peggy looked at her gravely. "I thought you did, please 'm. I thought
you wanted it made well, and that's what made me tell you."
"Yes," said Mrs. Dale, "but I haven't followed your prescription,
Peggy."
Peggy looked troubled, but for once her tongue failed her.
Mrs. Dale went on—
"A patient must always believe in their doctor, Peggy, must they not?
And they must be ready to take the medicine he gives them."
"In course they must, please 'm."
"And there are some people, Peggy, who find it difficult to get back
the belief they once had. They would like to cure themselves if they
knew how; they can't throw off their own efforts, and do nothing."
"Like the leper capting," said Peggy thoughtfully. "He was in a temper,
when he was told he must just wash hisself."
"You know your Bible well."
And Mrs. Dale gave a little weary sigh.
"Please 'm, isn't your head a little better?"
"I think it is, but I can't talk any more. Do you think your
Soul Doctor, Peggy, would take a patient that had spoken against
Him—slandered Him, in fact—a patient that had once been to Him, and
then had handed her case over to His enemy to take care of?"
Peggy's brows contracted with puzzled thought.
"He'd never send no one away, please 'm, would He? I come across a
verse in the Bible, please 'm, that says, 'They that are whole have no
need of the physician, but they that are sick!'"
"That will do, Peggy. Thank you. Now leave me."
And Peggy stole out of the room with a dim idea that her mistress was
not yet heart-whole.
"She 've never gone and done what I telled her," was her assertion to
herself.
And that night, by her bedside, she added this petition to her evening
prayer, "And if you please, God, I arsks you to show my missus the way
to Jesus, for she seems to have never got to Him yet!"
A few days after this, Nesbitt informed Peggy that the spare room must
be got ready for a visitor.
"It's mistress's nephew, the only relation she has in the world, and
he's a-coming home from India—been sent home because he is ill."
"I think I like sick folks," announced Peggy; "I feels so very much at
home with 'em. You see, I've nussed an aunt who was sick all my life,
so I seems to know just how to manage 'em."
"You won't be called on to have anything to do with this gentleman,"
said Nesbitt crushingly.
But Peggy was not easily snubbed. She continued to take an increasing
interest in the coming guest, and when she was told his name was
Captain D'Arcy, she was silent from sheer astonishment.
"What's the matter with you?" asked good-natured Lucy, as the three
were having their supper in the kitchen together, and Nesbitt had
mentioned Mrs. Dale's nephew by name.
Peggy drew a long breath, and put down her cup of cocoa that she was
raising to her lips.
"I've a-dreamed and dreamed, and longed for a place," she said
emphatically, "with a sick capting, and now it's come to me, I hardly
knows how to take it in!"
"You've a lot of silly foolishness in your head," said Nesbitt
severely, "that ought to be knocked out of it!"
"Lor, Nesbitt! Let her talk. I likes to hear 'er!" said Lucy. "Tell us
why you're so taken with sick gents, Peggy."
"Well," said Peggy earnestly, "'tis like this. I heard tell of a
servant-maid in the Bible, and I took a strordinary liking to her. It
didn't say much about her looks, or what kind o' home she had, but
'twas what she did. And I've always said to myself, that if I ever
found myself in a place like hers, I'd try and see if I couldn't do
somethink like her. And—" here Peggy hushed her voice to a solemn
whisper, "she were waitin' on a lady, and there were a sick capting in
the house!"
"Well, what o' that?" said Lucy, laughing.
Nesbitt looked at her in stern disapproval, but the bell rang, and she
had to go to her mistress.
Peggy hardly noticed her departure.
"The sick capting had a illness that couldn't be cured," she continued,
in solemn tones, "and the servant-maid got him well by tellin' him who
to go to. She sent him to some one who cured him."
"I believe I have heard the story," said Lucy indifferently. "Wasn't he
a leper, and didn't he go to Elisha?"
"Yes," said Peggy, "but 'twas the girl who sent him."
"I don't see much sense in that story," said Lucy, with a yawn. "You
reads yourself silly over your Bible, Peggy."
Peggy said no more.
She watched Captain D'Arcy arrive the next day with the greatest
interest. He was helped out of a cab by a soldier servant, and seemed
to be in very feeble health. His servant, Tom Bennett by name, proved a
welcome addition to the household. He was a bright cheery man, devoted
to his young master, and full of tales about his courage and endurance
in foreign parts. He told a wonderful story of the capture of a tiger,
and the three maidservants listened with breathless interest to this
and other adventures.
Peggy was full of curiosity, and her many questions amused Tom Bennett
greatly.
"Please, sir," she said, "have you ever seen a heathen or a missionary?"
"I believe I has," was the smiling reply. "Why, bless your heart, every
blacky is a heathen, and they be as plentiful as flies where we've come
from."
"And what does they talk? Is it English?"
"They talks gibberish; Hindustani mostly, but there be several mixed-up
langwidges which be past me altogether."
Peggy's face fell. "And you've seen a missionary?"
"Yes. Is he a natural curiosity, do you think? They ain't much in
my line, missionaries ain't, nor yet in the captin's, so we didn't
introduce ourselves. They be just a set o' parsons, and has churches
and schools same as in England."
"But," said Peggy hesitatingly, "there be some women and girl
missionaries out in Indy, I knows there be."
"You're quite right; I've seen a few. But they keeps theirselves to
their schools and such-like. They ain't in the captin's set, nor in
mine."
He laughed as he spoke.
Peggy, for a wonder, subsided, but she thought the more. And then one
day she saw Captain D'Arcy himself.
Nesbitt was out for the afternoon, and Peggy took tea into the library.
Mrs. Dale had been called away on business, and her nephew lay on a
couch by the fire, covered with a fur rug. Peggy regarded him with
reverence and awe; but not all her training by her former mistresses,
nor by Nesbitt, had cured her of beginning conversations with any and
every one that she saw.
"Please, sir, I hopes you're feelin' better," she said, as she
carefully put down the tea-tray.
Captain D'Arcy turned a surprised and languid look upon her, then a
twinkle came into his eyes.
"I'm getting on first-rate, thanks," he said.
"If I can do anythink, sir, to make you better, I would," persisted
Peggy, regarding him with anxious, earnest eyes.
"I'm afraid you can't," was the amused rejoinder, "unless you can give
me a new inside. India ruins a man's digestion, and plays the dickens
with him generally!"
Peggy's blue eyes fairly sparkled with delight.
"Oh, please sir, I knows who will make you new inside. I knows the very
One. Please, sir, may I tell you?"
Without waiting for a reply, she went on—
"'Tis the Lord Jesus, sir. He says He'll give us new hearts if we ask
of Him. If you go to Him, please sir, He'll make your heart quite well.
He will, indeed, for I knows heaps o' people that have had their hearts
put right, and I has myself, sir, for I give it into His hands, and He
done it. Please, sir, you'll excuse my mentionin' it, but I should like
you to get well, and it do seem as if you've got the right illness to
be cured. 'Tis just the inside on us that the Lord can cure. For the
Bible says, 'A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I
put within you.'"
She paused for breath, and Captain D'Arcy was so taken aback, that he
remained quite silent.
Peggy had said her say and withdrew, excited and trembling at her
audacity.
"You've done it, Peggy. You've tolded him where to go, and 'tis his
sick heart that be makin' his body bad—he telled me so. Oh, I does hope
he'll go and be cured—I does, indeed!"
But not a word did she say of her interview to the servants in the
kitchen. She kept her own counsel. She had had her opportunity and she
used it.
"I'm as good as the girl in the Bible, now," she said to herself, with
a happy sigh. "She telled a sick capting who would cure him, and I've
done it too. I can't do no more. I wonder if he'll go."
"Aunt Alice," said Captain D'Arcy that afternoon. "You have an
extraordinary specimen of a maid in your household."
"You must mean Peggy," said Mrs. Dale smiling. "I daresay she does
look queer, but she is a rough diamond, Harry. She is a true, faithful
little soul, who puts her heart into her work. She is not my servant
really, but I am taking her to oblige some friends whilst they are
away. Do you remember a Mr. Churchhill, a clergyman in the East End? I
used to work with him many years ago."
"I remember two little girls, when I was a very small boy, coming to
tea with you once. Joy, or Joyce, one of them was called. She and I
vowed perpetual friendship, or something of the sort. Where are they
now?"
"The father died quite recently, and they are left very badly off, I
am afraid. They took a small cottage in the country, and had Peggy as
their maid. I was lodging in a farmhouse near them this summer, so
renewed my acquaintance with them. They are at Bournemouth now, for
Helen Churchhill has been ill and wanted a change of air. They shut up
their cottage, and I promised to take charge of Peggy meanwhile."
"Is she by way of being a saint or a simpleton?" asked Captain D'Arcy
languidly.
His aunt looked sharply at him.
"Has she been talking to you? Her tongue cannot be restrained, but she
means no harm."
Captain D'Arcy gave a short laugh.
"She stood up there by her tea-tray, and preached at me. One of the
shortest straightest sermons that I had ever heard, but the suddenness
with which she plunged into her subject was rather startling!"
Mrs. Dale looked grave.
"I am sorry if she annoyed you, Harry; I must say her zeal outruns her
discretion sometimes. But her motive is good, and she has been the
means of bringing me into touch with things that for a long time I
pushed into the background."
It cost Mrs. Dale some considerable effort to say those few words.
Her nephew whistled softly.
"She is an original," he said. "Don't forbid her to speak, Aunt. I
shall be interested in seeing how she will follow it up."
"I don't think you will find she refers to it again. As far as I
gather, Peggy gives her message and leaves it. She won't trouble you
any more."